“Fine. You won’t believe me anyway.” She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring up defiantly at him, curled up in the chair as if the flimsy wood could protect her.
Leaving out the voice she’d heard on High Street, warning her of something called ‘Day Walkers’, she told him what happened in the Vaults with the men, fighting, ripping hearts out of chests, gold dust, and the disappearing.
“The entire tour group laughed at me…teased me about seeing ghosts, but I know what I saw. Are you going to laugh at me too?” Bracing herself for laughter, she looked up at Monroe through her eyelashes.
He was quiet, too quiet. She leaned up from her chair to get a closer look at Monroe. He was as white as a ghost. There was a fine sheen of sweat on his face.
What exactly did he know?
“I’m not laughing at you, though you must admit it’s a rather difficult story to believe, not to mention you admit you had been drinking. Our eyes play tricks on us sometimes, especially when there’s poor lighting. You’d already been thinking about ghosts so it’s not implausible your mind would make something up…” Monroe started to continue when Emily jumped to her feet, hand out in front of her to stop him from talking.
“…so you saw what you wanted to see,” he looked at her open-mouthed.
Indignant, she came to a stop inches from him, poking him in the chest and raising her voice, “Oh no, don’t you patronize me, buddy. I’m going to find this man and get to the bottom of this.”
“Please let me finish, Miss Laurens. I do believe something happened. This is a promise: I will find out what’s going on. Some sick bastard won’t get away with running around slicing people up in my city. You, Miss Laurens, will do no such investigating. Leave this to the authorities. Do you hear me?”
Gah, he was so demanding. She’d tell him whatever he wanted to hear, and then she’d do what she wanted, like she always did.
“Fine. We have sightseeing to do anyway. I’m tired, are we done here?” She sniffed.
“Shamus? Let’s go. Mrs. Chandler, Miss. Laurens, terribly sorry for the break-in. We’ll file a report and let you know if we find the idiot who did this. It was most likely university kids engaging in pre-Halloween pranks.” Monroe nodded to both women, leaving his card with them in case they remembered anything else.
Chapter 5
Saturday, October 31st
Emily yawned, “Did you sleep OK? I kept dreaming someone broke into our room to steal our shoes and purses. Then I was dreaming about trick-or-treating. Do you remember when we were five—I was a fairy princess and you were a box of cereal? I think we snagged the biggest haul of candy ever that year. Then the raccoon I rescued from the neighbor’s dog ate it all. In my dream, the raccoon went trick-or-treating with us. Bizarre right?”
“I slept like a baby, crazy I know. We’ve gotta have a calmer day than yesterday. No more break-ins or drama.” Kat looked over to see what other patrons in the parlor were having before turning her attention back to the menu and deciding on an omelet.
“Hmmm…think I’ll have Earl Grey Tea and the porridge with whisky. After all, a girl’s gotta fortify herself against the cold. At least we can say yesterday was exciting. Anyway, the Close was okay, but I thought the Vaults were really interesting. Can you imagine having to live like those poor people or being walled up alive?” Emily shuddered, wrinkling her nose.
Kat looked up from her plate, “By the way, I think someone had a little too much to drink last night, you lightweight.”
Emily started coughing as tea came out of her nose, “I was not drunk Katherine Anne Chandler. I know what I saw. Colin was real.”
“Oh, Colin is it? What, ya’ll have a date for coffee later today?”
Kat had been her best friend since Emily was five, but sometimes she could be so snarky Emily wanted to wring her pretty neck.
“Snicker all you like but I’m going to find out more about him. If he’s some re-enactment guy trying to scare me, he’s getting a piece of my mind—he will bleed, for real this time. That was soo not funny.” Emily made a face at Kat, and they both burst out laughing.
“Should we hit the museum today? I heard they have some fantastic abstract paintings, and it will keep our minds off of everything that’s happened.”
“Only if we can take the midnight tour of Edinburgh Castle tonight,” Emily pleaded.
“Fine, but first, we’re going back to the Vaults to find out who the re-enactors are, then we’re tracking down Colin so you can see he’s just some scruffy Scottish guy in a kilt. Not a ghost, and he won’t have an injured arm. Then we’re off to the museum, a nap, followed by a quiet dinner, ending with your midnight Halloween tour.” Kat finished her omelet while Emily snorted.
“What’s so funny?”
“You are so bossy, not to mention, I think you forgot lunch in our busy schedule.” Emily giggled.
Sniffing, Kat paid the bill as they headed out to enjoy the gray day.
Turning onto High Street, they found the tour guide, Ian, in the ticket booth adding up figures on an old-school calculator.
“Excuse me? We were here last night and wanted to find out who the re-enactors were. They were really good,” Kat said.
Ian scratched his head, a puzzled look on his face. “We don’t use re-enactors on the tours.” His face brightening, he said “I remember you two. You encountered the ghosts.”
“No, this guy’s name was Colin; he was in a kilt, black boots, and white shirt. He was with two other guys dressed as English soldiers with the redcoats and swords?” Emily pressed.
“No lassie, you musta seen a ghostie. You are right lucky, not many see three ghosts at once.” Ian sounded wistful, Emily wanted to smack him, but he seemed sincere about there not being any re-enactors so she and Kat would have to figure out who Colin was on their own.
“Thanks for your time.” Kat told him, pulling Emily away.
“Wait, tell me more about what you saw, I’ve been working here for two years, have never seen an actual ghost materialize, let alone fight in front of me, it must have been brilliant,” Ian begged.
“Another time, we’re on a very busy schedule today, and it’s about to storm, bye,” Kat tossed over her shoulder as they left.
Rolling her shoulders, Emily looked around her. Someone was watching them. A malevolent wind swirled around them, picking up her scarf, blowing her hair into her eyes. Lightning blazed across the sky causing the hair on her arms to stand up. The air crackled and hummed with electricity. Her gaze was drawn to a darkened doorway. A shadowy figure moved, startling her. Jumping at the sound of thunder, Emily looked to the doorway again…the shadow vanished.
Wandering through the museum, Kat spent hours soaking up the abstract paintings while Emily wandered aimlessly; stopping to look at whatever caught her eye. She loved Rodin and the Impressionists but didn’t really get the dreary, dark paintings depicting dead animals or people screaming in torment.
Who would want this gruesome stuff on their walls? If there’s art hanging on my walls, it’s got to be cheery and beautiful, not full of angst and sorrow, the world is harsh enough.
Planning to quickly get through the depressing hallway she headed for the next gallery depicting Scottish history as the lights blinked on and off—must be the approaching storm. She moved on, skirting a tour taking place, wandering amongst the art, half listening to the guide. Approaching the end of the gallery, Emily tripped and landed in front of…HIM!
“Miss, are you alright?” the guide helped her up, and after making sure she was okay resumed her spiel.
Emily couldn’t believe it. Moving closer, she read the information placed next to the painting of the guy from the Vaults.
“He was quite the handsome devil, wasn’t he? Come closer everyone. This particular painting was done in the mid-1600s. It depicts a baron at his castle, Ravensmore, situated in the Highlands of Scotland. Lord Colin Campbell restored the gardens. He was ahead of his time, utilizing many existing
early Roman features to provide the castle with running water, steam heat, and bathing chambers. What’s notable is the baron, it was rumored, liked to partake in a bit of harmless smuggling in order to finance the costly renovations to the castle. Unfortunately, he was caught, tried, and convicted of smuggling.
“During his imprisonment in Edinburgh Castle, he allegedly was murdered by his younger brother, Hamish, for besmirching the family name, while awaiting his death sentence. Taking the title, Lord Hamish, went on to marry Colin’s fiancée, Abigail, and is rumored the two were carrying on a torrid affair during the time she was engaged to Colin. Hamish’s second castle, Castle Gloom, mysteriously burned, killing Lord Hamish while Abigail was away visiting relatives. ‘Tis said Ravensmore and Edinburgh Castle are haunted to this day by Lord Colin’s ghost. He died without producing an heir, and the castle was sold numerous times before a distant relative purchased it and restored it. It’s privately owned now but is supposed to be quite lovely. Well folks, that’s all for the tour, there are some nice trinkets available in the gift shop.”
Emily couldn’t breathe; trembling, she backed up, reaching for the bench to sit down before she fell over. She was looking up at him. Even more breathtaking in the painting than she remembered from the night before. Feeling dizzy, she sat, lost in thought staring at Colin until Kat found her.
“Hey, I wondered where you wandered off to. Are you all right? Whoa. You’re pale as a ghost, looks like you’re going to throw up or something. Maybe you shouldn’t have had whiskey in your porridge for breakfast.”
“Kat, it’s Colin,” Emily rasped.
“Who? Hey, you’re shaking. Put your head between your knees and breathe. They’ll probably throw us out if you get sick. Kat fussed.
“Colin, from last night. The guy who was fighting and got hurt,” Emily stammered.
“The guy in the painting. Is the same guy you saw fighting. Last night in the Vaults?” Speaking very slowly, Emily heard the skepticism in Kat’s voice.
“I swear it was him. Why could I see him and no one else could? Why didn’t you all hear the noise?” Emily was puzzled.
“Oh honey, I don’t know, maybe it has something to do with what happened to you.” Kat sat next to Emily. “I’m not saying I believe you saw a ghost, but you obviously saw something. I’m trying here, sweetie.”
Putting her head in her hands, Emily was taken back to that awful day. I remember falling into darkness, then being in a long dimly lit hallway filled with different-colored doors. The gold door was locked; she hoped it wasn’t the door to heaven keeping her out. Looking around, happy a red door wasn’t open since that might be hell, she tried the blue door. It swung open onto a peaceful forest. She walked for a while coming to a waterfall surrounded by a small pool ringed by majestic Oak trees. Sitting on a rock overlooking the pond; she was at peace. Content to stay there forever, listening to the music of the wind blowing through the trees, the birds singing, bees happily buzzing around the flowers, and the tinkling of water over rocks, as if the very water itself was singing with joy.
A woman appeared out of the mist on the water. Ethereal. It was the only word to describe her. Moving towards her, she could see the woman had long silver sparkling hair, bare feet and was dressed in a simple white gown made of some kind of diaphanous material. Incredibly beautiful and serene, it was hard to tell her age. Her face kept changing from young to old. Emily couldn’t remember anything other than the woman telling her she was the goddess Terya, mother of the Earth and mother to the old, forgotten gods. Terya told her it wasn’t her time yet, she had to go back and do…something. The thought teased her, flitting away whenever she tried to remember what it was she had to do. If she could only remember… What she did remember was the goddess telling her she would be forever changed, able to see those who hadn’t or couldn’t move on, one foot forever in Shadow.
The next thing she remembered was coming to in a brightly lit hospital, screaming. Later as she was leaving, she decided it was all a hallucination brought on by the accident. Goddesses and gods didn’t exist anymore, no matter how much she might have wanted them to.
Pulled back to the present by the sound of Kat’s voice; Emily told her, “He wasn’t a ghost. I touched him; it was his blood on my shirt. I wasn’t going to show this to you…” Pulling a button out of her pocket, Emily handed it to Kat. “From his shirt.” Gesturing to the painting, “Matches the ones on his shirt exactly.”
Kat frowned as she looked from the button to the painting on the wall. “They do look alike but it could be a popular design. I wouldn’t put much stock in it, bet you can find these in every store in town.
“I need to go to Edinburgh Castle, then to Ravensmore. Ravensmore is supposed to be lovely; we can spend a couple of days there.”
“Who could say no to that face? Now I can see how your parents let you bring home every stray in town. Well, we have a lot to do today before we take the midnight tour, pack, and try to navigate Scottish roads in the morning, so let’s get moving.” Kat helped Emily up as they walked out of the museum.
Heading down the steps, Kat stumbled, falling. The crunch seemed so loud to Emily, it took her a moment to realize Kat was screaming, holding her leg.
“Hell, this can’t be happening” Kat screamed. “I think it’s broken. I can’t move. What am I going to do? How could this happen, I always hold the handrail, it’s been drummed into me at work. We can’t even cross the damn street without a crosswalk sign. I swear someone pushed me, but there was no one there.” Kat moaned, tears running down her face and sweat beading on her upper lip. A crowd gathered around offering assistance. “Please, anyone, my friend is hurt.” Emily looked at the crowd, willing them to help. A young couple whipped out mobile phones, “don’t worry, we’re calling now.”
Emily knelt beside Kat holding her hand making shushing noises. “It’s okay, help is coming. Hang in there, sweetie.”
Emily didn’t know how to tell her…someone…shoved her. She’d seen some guy dressed in a suit push her friend, but when she looked again, he was gone, vanished. No one else had seen him. Why did she?
Chapter 6
Colin came to spluttering as a bucket of cold water was thrown in his face. Opening the eye that wasn’t swollen shut; he looked around, he was back in the dungeon of Edinburgh Castle. Bloody hell, he was chained to the wall. His wrists and ankles were chafed where he had struggled against the cuffs.
He swallowed hard. Every year on the anniversary of his death, he had to relive it to signify his rebirth as a Shadow Walker. Hell, couldn’t Thorne come up with something less painful? Thorne was the god of shadows. It was he, in the darkness of the Shadow realm, who offered Colin the choice to become a Shadow Walker. As he had unfinished business, he gladly made the bargain, accepting the curse, swearing to protect humanity from the Day Walkers and became immortal, keeping his soul—the soul is the energy life force in us all. It is what remains behind when someone dies and isn’t ready to move on to the next realm.
Damnation, how many hundreds of times, every year at Halloween, had he been killed? The betrayal hurt more than the dying, screw the physical pain, he hardly noticed it. The depth of the deception ripped out his heart every bloody year. Seeing his brother wield the knife to end him, knowing Abigail was part of it, never got any damned easier. Why did they have to relive their deaths every year? Thorne could be one sick sonofabitch; this part of the curse he could live without.
Bile rose in his throat. It all came crashing back.
“By the gods, finish the damned thing!” Colin bellowed. He was tired of standing still posing for the fussy painter. His fiancée, Abigail wanted a portrait of him. He loved to indulge her so he agreed. He didn’t realize it would be the same morning he had a deal to complete. Maintaining the ancestral castle was bloody expensive so he supplemented income by making and smuggling whisky.
It was made on the estate in an unused building, out of sight. The malting room smelled delicious like
freshly baked bread from the kitchens. The brew had to be tended at all times. From the making to the smuggling someone had to ensure the process and recipe was followed. Not to mention looking out for customs officers and other bloody thieves.
Colin would load his ship full of illegal goods and sail to the Leith docks. From there the goods would be taken to the Vaults in Edinburgh. He stored the whisky there to let it age rather than keeping it on the estate. Safer that way.
Finally, the painter finished. He was late, didn’t bother changing.
“Colin, you’ll ruin that shirt. You should change before you leave for Edinburgh.” Abigail scolded as she came into the solar. “You know you’ll just get it filthy and rip it. Why don’t you change, darling?” She asked him looking up, fluttering her lashes.
“Abigail, darlin’, I’m late—if I ruin the bloody shirt, I’ll buy another.” Colin kissed her soundly escaping from the room.
It was a quick journey to Edinburgh by ship. He didn’t want to miss the tides. Ships were the best way to evade Customs. Having good relationships with many a captain didn’t hurt. The captain would take the spirits to the Vaults and in return for his risk be paid in coin and drink. Usually Colin went to Edinburgh afterwards to check on the stock or do business in the city, but this time he wanted to go along to check the route and crew members. There had been a close call a few weeks back. He wanted to ensure the operation was still safe.
The journey was uneventful, the weather perfect, even if it was cold outside. Late fall was a glorious time of year with many interested parties to purchase his whisky. More than the previous year. The alcohol was popular across Scotland and England. He’d recently shipped some to France for a gentleman he met playing cards.
Arriving at the dock, Colin supervised the unloading and transfer to wagons by the light of the moon. It was a full moon, winking out from the clouds; it would provide plenty of light to make the journey. This batch of whisky would age in the vaults for a few months before being sold as a cheaper brand. The casks that had aged for ten, fifteen or twenty years were stored in other locations in the hills around the estate where they couldn’t easily be found but could be tended as needed. It was risky but necessary to produce a higher price and finer quality. Tonight, one batch was destined for England. He quirked a brow thinking how ironic it was that the customs officers were English, and this whisky was going to some English toff. Seemed hypocritical to him, but what the hell did he know?
Lost in Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Ghost Novel) Page 5
